Auld Allianception
by Lichtherz
Summary: Well, it's not a crossover I might say, but it got inspired by Inception... It was also meant to be set in the time where the idea and technology of 'diving into other people's dreams' came up.


Good morning, good afternoon or whatever time you will read this.  
My native language is not English, so please excuse my poor grammar or use of words.

Pairing: Scotland x France

Rating: T

Genre:

Disclaimer: France and Scotland belong to Europe, Francis Bonnefoy belongs to Himaruya and Alasdair Iain Kirkland (Scotland, and I gave him this name) belongs to a user in pixiv.

_

(The idea is based on the inception movie. Please don't regard this with too many prejudices, I did my best to veil that inspiration ))

"And how much will it be this time? You know there are many risks coming with that kind of job.", the blond Frenchman said whose accent was surprisingly light.  
He sat in a modern styled office with musky furniture, obvious showing off how rich the company was that was asking him to do that certain job.  
"How much will be out of the question, just…!"  
A hand silenced the outbreak of one of the man with big muscles under a well-tailored suit. The owner of the hand was hidden by a large chair, facing the window in the back of the office. The person sitting on that chair had not yet revealed itself, neither by voice or body.

We are writing the year 4012, by now technology had found its way into almost every area of the human life. Dying had almost become no option. Disease were simply wiped away, no matter if they were diseases of the body or of the mind. Parents no longer had to suffer of fearing for a retarded child. This trick of nature had been fixed by Genetic selection done by humans. The other things that would happen during life mostly were fixed by computer-supported surgeries and Genetic restoration. When you had lost a leg or crippled a leg, the leg would be simply replaced by a copy made from your own Genetic code. The results of this new science were fantastic.  
After all, humans had finally accepted that even if they were god's creation, they were not godly themselves and erred in a thousand ways.

Then there were the mental issues. People that would suffer from the impact of crime or of accidents in traffic, no matter if in civil life in a car, bike or plane or in war zones…  
Or people lying in a coma for several time and their relatives would wish they'd come back. For these cases, technology had combined the very nature of a human being: Dreaming.  
It was possible, that humans could connect each other with wires and dive into a shared dream.  
In the beginning, this kind of technology had been used for entertaining, for enjoying life together. Also time played a different role in the shared Dreaming. Then people started to use this for war, to spy out certain people in order to get secret information. And then they used it to cure.  
The effect was a bit similar to the effect of a psychiatrist, but much deeper, like Hypnosis.

There were however certain rules to that shared Dreaming. Not everyone could use it. The first users, the 'entertainers' had never been able to Dream with their full consciousness, though there were exceptions here and there.  
The second category /had/ to be professional in order to actually achieve something. And they also had to be able to remember their dreams to succeed.  
The third category didn't necessarily have to remember these dreams, but they had to know what to do when they were inside the Dream.

Francis Bonnefoy belonged to the third category. He had decided to make money from using the ability to dive in someone's Dreams, just like a psychiatrist back in the old days. Most of the people he had met during this didn't mean that much to him. He had seen the most fascinating things. Often he would remember what he had experienced, that was true… but his creed was also not to get his heart into there. He claimed himself to be a Professional after all.  
And then again cash was what counted. He had to admit that he led a certain life-standard too. At the end of a stressful day he'd say to himself that he just wanted a nice rent at the end of all of this. And so he cured war-veterans, schizophrenic people, people of which was assumed they might murder someone. He was able to literally look into the people's hearts, so he put it sometimes.

"I just want you…", the hidden person's voice arose. "…to save my oldest brother."  
The person from behind the chair rose from the chair and revealed itself. It was a boyish male, approximately in his early 20s with short blond hair and piercing green eyes. He was now the head of the Kirkland Corporation. Francis had been surprised he had been invited here. They were indeed rich, but he had never heard or read of something terrible that had happened in the Kirkland Family. Then again they were cloaked with secrets.

"…What is the case?"  
"Comatose. For 15 years now.", that was before the Dream-Sharing had been introduced. The technology to this was still new after all… So this explained why no one had helped so far.  
"That's… weird, I have never heard of such a case."  
"Of course not. Do you think the Kirkland Corp. goes to peddle with such information? It's way too …too delicate."  
"When do I start? What's his name?"  
"Alasdair. You can start when you feel like it.", Arthur Kirkland walked up to Francis and looked at him in the eyes. The Frenchman could tell that he was mistrusting him in every possible way, he had often seen a look like this. Why would he put the most sensitive part of his brother on the line? It would be a crack in that eggshell.

"Well… I would like to take a look at the …the patient. Maybe also a bit on his Bio, if you'd allow it. On the other hand you wouldn't have called me if that wasn't the case. My help requires to go more or less deep into the heart of the patient."  
"Heart.", Arthur chuckled. "You make it sound so lovely…"  
"It is lovely. It is like looking into the deck of the other player."  
"Can I join into your Game?"  
"I'm afraid not. At least not without a training. Everything can happen in the Dream-Dive.", Francis explained. "You could very well sink your brother into …into abyss."  
Francis never saw the smirk on Arthur's face.

After what seemed like a maze, the surroundings never ceasing to amaze with elegance and classy appearance, Arthur unlocked a rather large door, leading into a slightly cool room.  
In the middle of a room was a large bed, and around the bed was a set of machines, obviously for medical purpose. Inside the bed was a tall red haired man, apparently at the late 20s, and he was connected to a lot of tubes and wires. The rhythmic beeping sound on one of the monitors mimicked his heartbeat.  
"This is him. I don't have a Bio on him prepared on paper… I just have to say… we weren't on good terms when we were young. He was 13 when he fell into Coma… I was 8. It was a car accident."  
"How about his… are there possible wounds?", okay so it is a child I will meet, Francis thought.  
"The wounds have healed long ago.", Arthur dreamily said. Then he shook his head. Then he looked at the entrance and lowered his voice.

"He has brought a secret with him. I want you to bring it out of him. Can you do that?"

Francis looked at Arthur and raised an eyebrow. What might that secret be? "I could try my best. But I can't say I guarantee for success. I never had a case with someone being in coma for such a long time. Also, he went through puberty without being conscious is kind of…", he shook his head. "I'll just go for a dive… I have several shots, don't I?"  
"…Why not? Time isn't what matters anymore. And I had the feeling that something like that would happen."  
Francis wouldn't tell the other that he started to have some personal interest into that case now. There had never been a success on a Coma-Person with an unconscious state for over more than one year. And these were 15 years now.

After about half an hour, the temperature in the room was adjusted as well as tables with scripts and photos of the places where little Arthur and his brother had used to live. Francis had said that he needed to know that.  
"In Dreams, the furniture is reconstructed by the person leading that Dream. The furniture, that is what is surrounding you. The air, the weather, the buildings, the …the very place you are in, down to the very detail like the pattern of an individual leaf."  
"Oh, that means you can create a storm by will in there?"  
"…You could say so, Oui.", Francis laughed.

There was another bed put up next to the bed of the redhead. A small table in between them was reserved for the Gadget that was used for the Dream-Diving.  
With the Gadgets came various wires. A set of wires was attached to Alasdair's temples, another pair to Francis' temples.  
"…not that there weren't enough wires on there.", Arthur grumpily muttered.  
"They might reappear…But I don't know if he'll be able to move normal after such a long time. Muscles that had not been moved… but I'm certain technology also has an answer to that.", Francis rolled his eyes and laid onto the best that had been set for him. He closed his eyes and tried to relax.

The next time he opened his eyes, the surroundings had changed. He was nowhere near the dark pompous building that belonged to the Kirkland Corporation, but on a wide field of grass and majestic mountains. This had to be the Scottish Highlands. Francis had often seen them on photos and one time he had also been there. The wind was blowing through his hair and everything seemed nice and calm.  
Just one problem: Where were the people? Where was this redhead boy he was looking for?  
He turned around and saw a small village down the slope. He walked down there and the village was full of busy people, mostly ginger-haired.  
Their talking was kind of weird, he didn't get much from that.  
"Find the subject…", he murmured and continued walking through the mud. As to accumulate to the surroundings he wore leather boots and a Tartan, much like the other men here.

It started to rain and the majority of the people fled into their houses or somewhere else where they would simply wait for the rain to stop. Francis however had found a larger house where the door stood open. People just randomly seemed to walk in and out. Some were looking at him.  
This was not a good sign, he thought to himself. Then again it might be good… the person who he was looking for had gotten aware of him.

Suddenly a hand grabbed his arm and yanked him inside. There was an old man, face wrinkly almost beyond recognition.  
"Whit urr ye keekin at, huh?", came the rough question.  
"I'm sorry, I don't understand… Do you speak English?", Francis blushed.  
"Nae… Ne'er spoke tha' glaikit leid.", the old man turned away and looked like he was dearly insulted.  
"French?"  
The man's face lit up and smiled at Francis. At least the blond would decipher it as a smile. …then he saw those piercing green eyes. Where have I seen them before, he wondered.

The man had only few teeth left, and he seemed to be sucking on them constantly. That was, as long as he wasn't talking. And he had quite bushy eyebrows – much like that blond Kirkland guy, Francis summed up. But the hair was as white as fresh fallen snow. The two of them were now sitting in a back room of the large building from before.

"I am looking for a boy with red hair."  
"Thare ur mony wee jimmies wi' that haircolour.", the old man laughed.  
"And his name is Alasdair."  
"Thare ur mony Alasdair's 'ere."  
"…Kirkland?"  
The smile fade away and the green eyes glared. "Wha urr ye? wha sent ye?"  
"I just… Are you that Kirkland? …I came here to get him back. He is .. lost."

In mid-sentence he noticed that something had not to be right. Then again there it might be possible. Inside the Comatose patient, the 'soul' or whatever it was had continued aging. What Francis didn't see was that the people from the street were now trying to get in there, to kill the Frenchman. They were projections, part of the sub consciousness. There were like a small defensive system inside the human mind. Anti-bodies that were meant to delete any unknown entity in there.  
Furthermore it meant that Alasdair Kirkland was simply disturbed at the intrusion of a 'foreigner'.

"Please, Alasdair, let me explain this! Just calm down, you… you have been in a deep sleep for ages!"  
"I know I have been… I know…"  
The wood didn't keep those harassing people outside much.  
"God, calm down! We need to talk this through!", Francis panicked now. He had never seen such violent sub-consciousness projections.

Francis tried to calm down himself. Remember your training, remember it. This is just a dream, just a dream! – he walked in circles around the small room they had locked themselves in. Then, Francis turned over the small bed and revealed a trap door.  
"Oh, that has not been there be-", Alasdair was cut short by the blond's hand.  
"Look, this is your Dream. You decide. So decide wisely. Please, for the sake of yourself. Just give me time to properly introduce myself and shit. …Okay? So let's use that trap door now."  
The old man moved hesitantly. The blond almost thought that he was going to kill them.

After having entered the secret tunnel, the silence had suddenly fallen upon them like the projections had never been there. The Dream-Diver almost considered turning back if there had not been the light at the end of the tunnel.  
"Okay, so…let's start… My name is Francis Bonnefoy. And I am here to kind of… save you? Your brother has sent me."  
"Whilk yin? ah hae three brothers."  
"Arthur… was his name, I think. Didn't get much time to meet him."  
"Ah, He's th' youngest. Ah mind him weel…", a sad smile came upon the old man's face.

"You were in a Coma… You are in a Coma as we speak. It's been 15 years since you have fallen into this Coma and I think your brother wants me to get you out of here. At least this is what I usually do. People have invented 'Dream-Diving', I could enter anyone's Dream, or Coma-patients.  
"A see…", now the old man looked sad.  
"I expected to meet a young man… Arthur said you were 13 when it happened."  
"…Ye said, 'twas mah dream. In mah dream ah cuid be anythin'. At least this wis whit we used tae hawp."  
"And you decided to be an old man with only few teeth?"  
"Ah decided tae age, aye. …because men wi' auld age git respected. At least whaur we ur 'ere.", Alasdair opened something like a manhole and stepped outside. There were on the edge of a forest. "Ah loue mah auld scootlund …"  
Francis could have sworn to hear Bagpipe tunes. He told himself that Alasdair was still just a brat of 13 years. His mind had been closed at that age. He could not have matured in here, couldn't he?

"You don't agree with yourself it seems. …This is your Dream. You can decide at what age you get the respect that you want. And as far as I recall… also in real life, men at a certain age are somewhat…free? At least what I would call it. A man in his 20s or 30s, strong muscles, successful, smart. These are the ones that hold their life in their hands. They don't need to dream their life. They live their dream."  
The old man frowned at Francis. Then his features started to change. He became younger. The most fascinating thing, found the Frenchman, was when the pigments returned to the hair. The Snow was drenched in Blood, so to say.  
But the size didn't change that much. He was just as tall as Francis. Neither of them knew that the real Alasdair was taller than that.

"Urr ye happy noo?"  
The blond gulped a bit.  
"Mh.. well… There was one more thing your brother has ordered me to do. He asked me if I could find some…secret. He told me that you had gotten a secret some time before you fell into Coma due to a car accident.", Francis frowned, not sure if he remembered that now correctly. Actually he expected Alasdair to confirm that memory.  
"I'm afraid I don't remember such a secret thing.", Alasdair casually said and looked pissed. He was angry and thought that it was obviously the real reason why someone had been sent to get him out of this world. But once he'd get out, he'd have a talk with his brother, he added.

"M-maybe you forgot what the modern world is like too? Maybe we could go back to when you had been so young?"  
"How do you want to do that?", Alasdair was sceptic.  
Francis tugged a suitcase from the bushes, much like the one he had arrived with at the Kirkland Building. He opened the suitcase and revealed the Gadget. "It's a …well… you need to put on these and put yourself to a rest."  
It was a bit risky… it was a Dream inside a Dream. But just because no one had tried that didn't mean anything.  
Alasdair obeyed, that was also a good thing. And then they were far away from disturbing factors like the sub-consciousness Projections.

Francis taped the wires to his temples and reminded the other before he was drifting off to sleep that he had to think of himself from when he was a kid, maybe shortly before the accident.

Now he was sitting in a car, in the back of a Limousine car to be precise. The leather seats were black and there was a red haired boy sitting in front of him with a stern look on his face just as he looked up from his tablet computer. "Wha urr ye?"  
"…I am Francis.", and there he noticed that he had been turned into a child as well. He looked just like a cute girl.  
"Howfur did ye git in 'ere? urr ye some kind of… of… fairy?"  
"…Non. You are inside a dream."

The Limousine seemed to go a bit off-road. The car shook violently and rocks fell down on the roof, denting it here and there.  
"Shh, it's okay. …You notice… things on here. Isn't the seat tickling your back weirdly? Like it is grass? It's alright if it's just a dream, right? …Or do you remember how you got on here?"  
Alasdair tried to hide his terrified look as best as he could, but then his eyes widened and he realised that he couldn't remember how he had gotten here.  
"I am here to protect you.", Francis smoothly said, then unfastened his seatbelt and sat next to Alasdair. Somewhat awkwardly, he took his hand.  
Somewhat later, the denting of the car stopped and the road seemed to be smooth again.

"O-okay… Ah mind noo. Ye wur th' guy wha tellt me ah wis in… in a Coma.", Alasdair moved a hand through his face. He grew also aware that he was now caught in his memory. He looked outside the window and frowned deeply.  
"Do you remember something?"

Alasdair took a deep breath and said he would remember something. But that something was locked in a safe. He was given the code to it some time ago. Actually just before his accident. Now the two of them were driving right to the house where he was told that code by his father's secretary.  
"Now I am not professional on cases like these… is it even alright when I come with you?  
"You'll be fine. It's my Dream and as long as I am fine with you being here…? Or how does it work?"  
"Oh, it should work by a logic like this. But Theory and Practical is always two pair of shoes, d'accord?"  
A sudden smile appeared on Alasdair's face. "That's the first time you actually use French. So you are French? Or are you Canadian?"  
"French…"  
"This is nice…"

Francis had no idea how this was nice. But then they also reached the house with the safe. Would they be able to actually open the safe at ease? Even with the combination and everything…  
Usually, a safe represented a secret inside the Subject's consciousness. But here it was possibly something real, because Arthur Kirkland had mentioned it. And the guy didn't seem to have any knowledge about the structure of the Dream Sphere.

The two kids however ended up some time before the safe in an old fashioned office.  
"Are you sure you remember the code?"  
"Aye."  
But before the finger could reach the panel, a loud crash almost knocked the house apart.  
"What was that?", Alasdair and Francis asked in unison, each in their language.  
After a few moments, a full-grown Arthur stood in the same room. "There you are…", he had a gun in his hand.

"Well, I could have sworn you were there.", Arthur said with a frown.  
Alasdair and Francis were hiding underneath the desk. The blond Kirkland had not seen how they had disappeared. The French boy rummaged his brain, how that Arthur find a way into the Dream in a Dream? Alasdair didn't care as much and came from his hiding place.  
"Whit dae yi'll waa-?", he was cut short by a bullet hitting his chest.  
Francis cursed and also showed up before Arthur now regardless if he had a gun or not. "Are you nuts? I almost had the secret you have been asking for!"  
"M-Mr. Bonnefoy?", Arthur blushed, looking at the 'cute little girl'.

"Now he'll drift into another Dream… For god's sake, no one ever did that! Are you insane?"  
Arthur just smirked after regaining his composure. "I never intended on bringing him back. If it was for me he could be in Coma forever. Have you got the damn code now? Well it doesn't matter… the safe is right here."  
The Brit walked to the safe and tried to shoot it open.

Francis had hesitated, not knowing what to do. They had been rivalling brothers? Well of course… as soon as Alasdair would wake up – as the oldest he should be the one 'ruling' the Kirkland Corporation. Which would cause Arthur to be either jobless but definitely not in the place he was in now. What kind of brother was this…?  
Arthur however had been able to open the safe. "What? Just papers, papers!"  
The French boy chuckled. "Of course… if they were the real papers of back then… Alasdair never had a chance to get a glimpse on them, had he?"  
"You… you wasted my time!", Arthur snarled.  
"It's not my problem you have family issues!", now it was Francis to draw a gun and he shot Arthur right into the head. And unlike his brother he didn't get lost in some other Dream. Instant death meant being kicked out of the Dream.

"Now, one more try…", Francis groaned and got out another suitcase out of the desk's drawer. The desk Alasdair and him had been hiding underneath before. He attached the wires to the redhead and him and dove deeper.

This time it was different. He was washed upon a shore and could have sworn to have almost been drowned. He was an adult again. He got up to his feet and looked at the surroundings. There were tall houses, covered by plants of all sorts.  
It was some post-apocalyptic area.  
"No wonder. He has just been shot by his brother. That idiotic brother. I just hope he is not so stupid to disconnect us here…", Francis muttered as he walked between the buildings. Some of them were collapsing, throwing their rubble down onto the streets. He was very anxious to get buried beneath them. He had to find the redhead quickly.

After what felt like an eternity he found him. This time it was the 'original' one, the tall red haired Alasdair. But he looked tired, sad, drenched. By now, there was a rainstorm beating against the torn glass windows of the building they were in. It was a house different from the others, just a small one-story house with a pointed roof.  
"Alasdair?"

"Alasdair, it's me… Francis. …I failed to protect you … up there."  
"Na yin wants me up thare. Ah don't even… ah don't ken a'body up thare."  
"But your brothers? Okay, that Arthur was a dick. What about the other two?"  
And the redhead didn't move.

Francis registered… this was the third level, wasn't it? It must be the core of his very being. And he wasn't so wrong about no one up there knowing him either.  
"But I know you now! At least … for to make a start. And look, I had to shoot your brother in order to come down to here.", why was he even saying a thing like this? Why taking his side? …Because he was hugging his unique job as a 'Dream-Diver' so much? Would he just talk Alasdair off once they were in the normal world? This was a very difficult decision. Now this house started to crumble too. And Francis knew that if he didn't do something quick, they would both be lost. Why was he putting in so much effort?  
Even when he'd get Alasdair out here, what kind of life would await him?  
But then…  
There was humanity. A Conscience. Helping others was just the very spine of humanity. What would we be without being helping – there didn't have to be rewards always!

Just a few moments later, the building crashed upon them!

Back in the real world, the bodies of Alasdair Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy were still lying next to each other. The constant beeping still mimicked the redhead's steady heartbeat.  
Francis blinked and opened his eyes, a gun was pointed into his face.  
Behind the gun was a very angry Arthur. "You messed up everything. And this time you won't be able to kill me."  
The gun was ripped from Arthur's hand, a second hand whacked the blond Kirkland off.  
"Hauns aff mah … mah psychiatrist.", Alasdair gave Francis a quick questioning look. Then he fumbled with the gun so he pointed it at his brother. "Actually ah shuid be shooting ye fur whit ye did tae me."

The redhead reluctantly got up from his bed and tugged the wires from his body that had been attached by tape. The beeping turned into a long and annoying whistling tune.  
"Juist fur ye wur pumpin' grippie ye git me oot o' mah coma? that is …", Alasdair stumbled and paled. What he wasn't aware of was that he wore one of those hospital frocks which were butt-free – and that Francis could see said butt. But even though this has no real relevancy to the story, the author felt like inserting it.  
However, Arthur was about to lung towards the stumbling brother but got cut short by the invading medical staff that usually cared about Alasdair. They had noticed that something was wrong with the machines that had been observing his health and had come rushing to the room.  
They were quite shocked to see that the 'young master' had returned to life.  
As a second action they took care of a very furious Arthur, leaving Alasdair and Francis alone for a bit.

"It seems like… it was a huge success.", Francis remarked and sat up differently on the bed. He detached the wires from the Dream-Diver machine and packed it neatly, just to busy himself with something he knew.  
"Aye. 'n' ye … ye wur a protector. Na mistake in that. 'n' ye'll git a reward."  
"I don't think I want a reward for this anymore.", the blond groaned and took his suitcase onto his lap. It seemed heavier than before. Maybe he was just exhausted.  
"Ye'll git yin. Na buts."  
Before Francis could complain, another pair of lips met his.


End file.
